


a brilliant, mastermind strategy

by kingofpentacles



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Communication, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation in Shower, Puberty, Sarcasm, Shower Sex, Story within a Story, Teasing, Trans Character, Trans Near | Nate River, Wammy's House (Death Note)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofpentacles/pseuds/kingofpentacles
Summary: Near tells Mello a true story about tragedy, shower heads, revolution, and the power of horny teenagers.
Relationships: Mello | Mihael Keehl/Near | Nate River
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	a brilliant, mastermind strategy

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this one up pretty quickly compared to my other fics, and it's not perfect, but it was pretty fun to write!! it's a little bit smutty, but mostly it's just a story, based off of one my aunt told me about her college roommate's old private school having to ban the girls from using the shower heads to masturbate. 
> 
> hope yall enjoy this ridiculous little tale. i've got more stuff in the works already, but if u have a pwp suggestion, totally let me know in the comments hehe

Near rolled his eyes, tuning Mello’s rant out. This shower head was much more interesting. He stared at it, watching the heated water gush out, instead of at Mello’s ranting mouth. He hadn’t tried it out yet (the shower head, that was- he’d tried out Mello’s mouth plenty of times), since this apartment was still relatively new to them. He’d wanted Mello to watch him, the first time. It was stimulating to have Mello with him while he masturbated, watching him with wide-open bright blue eyes, trying to pretend he wasn’t as aroused as he was. Nate smiled at the thought, just a slight curve of his lips. 

“Well, don’t laugh!” Mello snapped 

Near, who was sitting nude on the ceramic seat of their new shower, flicked his eyes back to Mello. His partner stood over him, naked and irate. His eyelashes had very small droplets of water on them, Near noticed vaguely. Every time he blinked, they changed places and some fell. Water ran in rivulets down his body, catching on the sparse blond hair of chest and stomach. And.. elsewhere. Near sighed inwardly. One would think that inviting one’s significant other into the shower with oneself might indicate that said person was flirting and would like to have sex with said significant other. Clearly, Mello had not reached the same conclusion. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“No,” Near said decisively. “I was thinking about the shower head.” 

“The-” Mello whipped his head around to look at it, and on tiptoe, inspected it closely, like there was something hiding on it that would explain why Near wouldn’t respond to his rant. Near’s jaw twitched. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mello said, still eyeing it. “It’s an okay shower head, right? You like it and everything? You could have told me you hated it. We looked over the place, like a thousand times, Near, I thought you really liked it-”

“Mello,” Near said loudly. “Let’s have sex.”

Mello stopped suddenly, and squinted. 

“Is- is that why you wanted me in here?”

Near sighed out loud this time. “Yes. Why did you think I wanted you in here?”

How interesting. Mello’s face was flushed. Near’s head tilted to the side, considering. It was possible that the water was making his face warmer than usual, but bearing in mind how quickly the flush had come on, it likely meant that Mello was.. embarrassed. “How was I supposed to know that?” he snapped. 

Near frowned. “By my tone of voice?”

“You-!” Mello sputtered. “You said,” his voice took on a monotone, and his hand came up to twirl his hair. “‘Mello, I’d like you to shower with me.’” The affected tone dropped. He’d been making fun of him. Near, for his part, didn’t mind. His partner was clearly feeling self conscious due to his own slight error in tone interpretation, and the fact that he was the one with a strong hold on interpersonal communication skills. No matter. Nobody was perfect. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make myself clear,” Near said. “I meant, I’d like to have sex with you in the shower. But first, I’d like to masturbate while you watch. With the shower head that I very much like. In the apartment that I also like, but not as much as I like having sex with you.”

“..oh.”

“Yes. Please hand me the shower head.”

Mello did. Warm water splashed on Near’s chest as he took it. 

“So you’re going to..”

“Masturbate with it,” Near confirmed, only slightly annoyed. He hated repeating himself. 

“What, stick it up there?” 

Near scoffed. 

“What? How am I supposed to know? I’m not an expert on how people with vaginas masturbate, Near. I told you this not five minutes ago."

Near considered this. "Is that what you were talking about?"

Mello stared. "You seriously weren't listening?"

"I thought I told you I wasn't."

"Oh my god. I was on a phone call with Matt and he referenced something and laughed and I was like, what's that supposed to mean, and he was like, 'you know, the vinegar war of two-thousand-four?' And I was like, no, and he was like, 'oh, you weren’t there for that' and I was like, 'where?' And he was like 'at Wammy's, you weren’t there for the vinegar war'. And I was like- why are you laughing?" Mello cut off with a snap. 

Near was snickering a little under his breath, had been since Mello had mentioned vinegar.

"Sorry. Continue."

Mello eyed him, then huffed. 

"He said something about a war, and then that it had to do with the girls, like, jerking off. And then he was like, 'I'm not explaining it Mello, it's not funny if you weren't there to witness it.' Fucking dick."

"I'll tell you about it if you like."

“Weren’t you going to-”

“Mello,” Near cut him off. “I am able to multitask.” 

-

The year was 2004. Clearly. You had left recently. 

Keep in mind that I was the only transgender child at Wammy’s House, and Roger didn’t really know what to do with me. Fortunately, there was little gender separation at the House; really, the only separation was with the showers. I suppose he had better things to do, or perhaps he didn’t care, because he never told me which showers to use. I ended up switching between them depending on how I felt each day.

The boys’ showers were farther away from my room, though, so most of the time, if I wasn’t feeling dysphoric, I used the girls’. This was the case on the day it all started.

-

The water was warm and the pressure of gushing water between his legs made Near’s voice breathy. Mello was openly staring at him. Near noticed with a small amount of pride that, though he hadn’t yet touched himself, he was already half erect. A smile curled his lips. _Good_. He continued. 

-

There were thin walls separating each shower, if you’ll recall. I never experienced this in the boy’s showers, but the girls tended to gossip through them while showering. Nothing mean, just swapping information on who was crushing on whom, bets on whomever was supposed to rise in the ranks, which professor was the most attractive.. That sort of thing. One of the ones who chattered the most was Linda. 

She and I were close friends. Closer than I was to any girl at Wammy’s, probably. We were friends for years, and talked about everything together, so when our respective pubescence began, we talked about that, too, comparing our changes like scientists examining their subjects. She, I think, saw me as a boy that could relate to.. girl-ish things, I suppose. Female puberty, I mean. Menstrual cycles, breasts, crushes on boys.. Things like that. It made me uncomfortable at times, being talked to as if I was a girl, talking about all the girly things happening to me. But she always used my correct pronouns, and occasionally she would say things like.. _I don’t talk to you about this ‘cause you’re a girl, I do it ‘cause you’re my friend,_ she’d say. _If that’s not cool, tell me. And I promise I’ll stop it, and we can still be best friends_ . And she’d hold up her pinky finger and curl it loosely around mine and say _pinky promise_. And I would always feel better after that.

\- 

Nate realized vaguely that his other hand had raised unconsciously, with a curled pinky. Like Linda was there. He swallowed. He was supposed to be mutually masturbating with his significant other, and he was ruining it by thinking about a childhood friend he’d compared breasts to. He was being ridiculous.

Mello kneeled in front of him and deftly clicked the shower head off. 

“Near,” he said firmly. “If you want to talk to her, I literally have her phone number. Matt bought it from some shady ass website, but it’s legit. You should talk to her, if you miss her that much.” 

Near was looking away. “She won’t remember me.”

Mello snorted, and Near’s eyes flicked back to him. “I’ll give you a million dollars if she doesn’t. That’s how confident I am that she’ll remember every fucking thing about you, every detail. You're probably the subject of a painting or two.”

Near didn’t respond. They hadn’t talked in a long time. But then again, they had been close friends during a transformative time in life, and for several years. Perhaps she would remember him. He felt himself relax as Mello leaned forward to briefly kiss his forehead. 

“Think about it,” Mello said firmly. “Think about it _later,_ I mean,” he amended when Near raised an eyebrow.

“..Fine.”

Mello smiled and settled back on the tiles, leaning against the wall like he was watching a show. Near eyed him for a second, clicked the button on the side of the shower head, and spoke. 

-

So we were close friends. And naturally, when we respectively discovered masturbation, it was discussed fervently. During a conversation in gym class, some girls overheard and by the end of class, almost all of the older girls and I were discussing it together. It was.. Rather enlightening. Everyone else had much more creative methods of getting off than I did. But no matter. The most important thing that happened was, someone shyly mentioned liking the feeling of the detachable shower head in the bathroom. Everyone was stunned. We were child geniuses; how had only one of us discovered such a brilliant, mastermind strategy? We all swore, going around the circle with pinky promises, that we would begin taking showers at separate times in order to give each one another her (or his) privacy, and would always clean the shower head afterward with the bottle of vinegar available in the cleaning supply closet. Vinegar, because some girl said that was the right thing to do. I don’t actually know if it was, but we all agreed upon it like we were in some covert CIA operation. 

Now that I say it out loud, it all sounds so perverted. But it wasn’t. We were just discussing it, nothing inappropriate about it. Well, sort of inappropriate, but not in a sexualized way. 

I was friendly with most of the boys my age, too, but I noticed that they were much more shy about the subject and joked about it when it came up, poking fun at each other. And they never discussed it altogether as a group; there was no support from peers. They had noticed the girls and I talking a lot, though, and would ask me what it was all about, but of course, I never told them a word. What? Why are you making

-

“-that face?” Near said. 

Mello was staring at him, eyes a little wide. Flushed again. “You’re-” he rasped, “I mean.. You look good. Like this. You’re so desperate and.. Like, grinding against it as you talk. It’s hot.” He was jerking himself off, slow and steady, and it made Near’s head spin to think that he’d been the cause. 

Near felt his face heat up and broke eye contact. He hadn’t realized he was doing it, but if Mello liked it, and he liked it, well.. He ground against the gushing shower head more firmly and allowed himself to moan softly. It felt incredible, like scratching an itch deep inside him. But, because he wanted to draw this out a little longer, not to mention finish his story, he clicked the water off. Mello read his mind. 

“Let’s finish the story later,” he said, voice low, and captured his lips in a kiss. He clicked the water back on and helped Near grind it in tortuously slow circles against himself. It took less than a minute for Near to be moaning, low under his breath, and not much longer for his legs to shake. Mello’s tongue was slick and hot in his mouth, sliding against his. He had to break off to moan when he came, hard, and shivering with pleasure. 

Later, clean and dry and warm in bed, Mello traced his thumb across Near’s lower lip and said, “so, what happened next?”

Near grinned. 

-

We went crazy, of course. We had to pass notes around to work out a strict schedule because so many of us had requested more shower time. The whole thing was a huge inside joke with a quarter of the school, probably thirty or more of the older girls and I in total. The girls were hormonal monsters; they whistled at each other when one of us went to shower, they glimpsed the supply closet and winked at their friends, they were insane, horny-beyond-belief, teenagers. At the time, it was simply amusing, but looking back, it’s hilarious. I can’t believe we lasted as long as we did. They were ridiculous.

-

“Not you, though, right,” said Mello. 

“Never.”

“Right. Because you know how to be quiet. And subtle.”

“Exactly.”

“Sure.”

-

That went on for about a fortnight, and then some cleaning lady got wise about the situation (probably due to the faint smell of vinegar from our bathroom and the shower heads suddenly being shiny and clean and well kept). She informed Roger of what was happening, and he gathered us all together to lecture us on appropriate bathroom activities. Ha! 

Anyway, the whole thing somehow spread to the boys. Surprisingly, they were very supportive about it. I remember Matt saying something about not suppressing one’s inner tiger. Unsurprisingly, they were loud about it and it got back to Roger in less than a week. 

He didn’t say a word, and less than twenty-four hours later, the shower heads were replaced with fixed spouts. Everyone was enraged; the younger kids demanded to know what was happening, but of course, no one told them. 

It became a revolution. In art class, we made posters citing books on the positive effects of orgasms. It became about personal rights and suppressing teenage sexuality. The boys were incredibly enthusiastic about it. The especially brave ones would pointedly ask the history professor about protests, historical revolutions, or dictatorships, and everyone would giggle. It got more wild as the days went on. It got to where they had to lock up the supply closet because somebody stole the vinegar and spilled the whole bottle into his carpet. It smelled for ages. 

But Roger refused to replace the shower heads, and finally, we organized a silent protest. Half of the school was deathly quiet for an entire _week_ before Roger decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and put the detachable shower heads back on. We couldn’t believe it; we were completely ecstatic. That was the end of it, and we had won. Somebody referred to it as the vinegar war, and somebody jokingly said “The Vinegar War of Two Thousand and Four”, and it stuck. I wouldn’t be surprised if the story was passed down through legend, and the kids at the House these days know it. It was a big deal to us. We felt like revolutionaries. 

-

“That’s insane.”

“It’s true,” said Near. “Ask Matt.”

“No, I believe you; it’s just ridiculous. And hilarious. I can’t believe you willingly participated in that.”

Near sighed. 

“What can I say; I was an amorous teenager. We all were. But it turned out okay. The only downside was that the bathroom always smelled vaguely like vinegar.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Oh, absolutely. The water pressure was immaculate.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u like, please leave a kudos or a comment! 
> 
> **to all my fellow vagina owners: if you've never had one of those showers that has a removable shower head, ummm.. get one**


End file.
